Foxfire
by Gender Outlaw
Summary: ʹ HPNaruPilot Cross ʹ - He still wore his coat of fur, the skin instantly calming him the moment he was allowed again his baser instincts and sensations. The feel of firm ground against his paws, wind stirring his fur..
1. Chapter 1

_**foxfire:**_  
_the light cast by decaying wood and plant remains.._

* * *

**_NOTE:  
_**Hopefully the only one you'll have to get through in this story. Unless - or 'til - otherwise stated, these are all just connected drabbles. The theme of this story is _the animal within_.

**INTRODUCTION:**  
This story is a crossover of the Pilot Manga of _Naruto_, and the _Harry Potter_ books. The Pilot Manga of Naruto is - was - completely different than the cannon. Here is it briefly broken it down:

_Naruto_ is a fox demon whose father was killed by nine powerful men (the last having _not_ died in the attempt). Naruto has trouble connecting to those his own age, and can be prone to violence. But .. hard to explain, it seems like what is violent to his neighbors is nothing to him, just play.

That is why the leader of his village - one of the nine, and who raised Naruto after killing the boy's father - sent the boy on a quest to bring back a friend as proof of his humanity. Naruto's first friend is murdered on the day they meet, but from him, Naruto learns to trust humans. And too, from him, Naruto develops the notion that a handshake is a symbol of trust.

Naruto might have a much longer life span than that of a human - being not-human - and may even not age visibly over the course of several years. Though he does have the ability to shapeshift with the help of scrolls and seals. But, being the last of his kind, I can't describe his experience at this for he has no one to learn these things from.

This is my first time writing _Harry Potter_, and I will do my best. I have done extensive unnecessary research. (Why do I need to know the length and width of an average coyote? Or the best trade route from China to Britain?) But, I will be, obviously, making things up ..

**PURPOSE:**  
I felt challenged after reading Asuka Kureru's "Harry Potter crack ficlets"; most especially the parody of how the Naruto cast is either mysteriously thrown into the Harry Potter world, or assigned a mission there. And of course, the various other crossovers out there..

**LAST EDIT:**  
_3-30-2011_

* * *

_The schoolhouse is red, as it's supposed to be.  
And the smell of woodsmoke, like a fire, like a fire. _

SMOKE, Dana Levin

* * *

Several years had already passed since Voldermort seemingly disappeared without any trace, and many gleefully thought him dead. The child responsible for all this was yet young, and hidden far away from the wizardry world in his relative's house.

But that is not our story.

Hundreds of miles to the east, on the grounds of Hogwarts, it is already several days after students (and some faculty) have left the castle for Winter Break. The ice is in the air; a cold so vibrant that to swallow would be to choke on the frost of your lungs. Clouds pregnant with snow leak over the mountains bordering Hogwart's land in what can only be called a 'march of grays'.

The trees lining the entrance to the Forbidden Forest are so ladden with ice and snow that the tips of the branches nearly sweep the mounds of white covering their roots.

So Hagrid whistled to himself as he knelt beside his stack of firewood, not far from his cabin door. Though, to be truthful, it was less of a pile of logs, and more a graveyard of trees. He left the door to his shack enough open to feel the warmth through - the heat launched itself from the small space in waves - but he only intended to be out for a bare minute, even less if he moved quickly.

The nights were getting colder and colder. He'd had to move many of the creatures the students had been studying before the break into the castle after daylight hours just to keep them from freezing to death.

Even _his_ thick skin was turning blue..

He was pulling a fifth log into his armload when he heard the ice crack heavily behind him. The sound rang out sharply at the edge of the woods, and all usual noise from the forest ceased. It was already well-past midnight .. no one else should be out. It being Holidays and with many of the children sent home, he could expect his friends not to appear.

As if his back were a piece of the breakable frost, he turned too slowly to make a noise, inching bit by bit until he could see what dark silhouettes were shadowed against the wood and his cabin.

It didn't matter much. The scrawny creature by his door saw him anyway. It was rather hard not too; Hagrid was the biggest thing around and not even the trees could properly hide themselves from each other.

The thing by the door was small and filthy, covered from head to hide in what looked like mud. It was scrawny and akward and too, if he could judge behind the apparent clumps of mess over it's fur, a bit skinnier than normal. The lack of a moon to light shadows made more confusion than clarity.

Hagrid was beginning to see black spots from trying to stare so hard out of the corners of his eyes. His knee cracked as he tried to get a better look at the animal. It flinched easily at the sound directly beside the stoop his doorway sat upon. Just a small step above the ground to keep the snow drifts out of his cabin, really.

The head of the thing was drooped low, tilted between it's legs and lifted slightly forward. As if he was smelling Hagrid.. (If the snow would let up just a little he might be able to make out exactly what the creature was.)

Hagrid didn't move. He couldn't move. He would never move.

It flicked what was apparently an ear to the left at the warmth emitting from Hagrid's cabin door. Apart from a subtle twitching, there wasn't any hint of movement. Neither towards the heat, or away from the human.

(From behind, Hagrid looked rather like a large bear. And the beast already knew from experience that it could out-run a single bear..)

Hagrid spoke softly; couldn't help speaking. Such an animal, to show up so very late in the evening and venture just so close to the castle grounds, and so very close to his cabin.

The poor thing must be cold itself! Ah, if only he could get it inside his cabin where it was warm. Then he could see what it was, and clean it up, and maybe even possibly have it as a pet .. it was rather cute (what parts of it he could see).

The vaguely pointed ears twitched again, and the creature tried slouching backwards hesistantly, the snow cracking under paws buried inches deep. (Hagrid used the sudden scream of another violent wind to tilt his body a bit closer for a better view before it died down some, again.)

The head was lowered and the body compact. The onslaught of chill flung something that looked vaguely like seaweed from it's back and out of view. (Though, when Hagrid's range of vision was less than ten feet, it wasn't so impressive..)

Hagrid start whispering at the poor thing. (But with the sounds of the storm coming full-blast again, he could have been singing the national anthem.) It was blatant selfishness, and he knew it. But he so rather wanted to keep it as a pet, to see it safe and warm next to his fireplace. Whatever it was.

The thick breeze made him wish he was inside, covered in his heavy bearskin blanket. The load in his arms was irritating in the least by now.. (Five partly-grown trees can do that to a soul.)

The animal sniffed at his door and watched him through the corners of it's eyes. It kept it's tail low and crept a paw over the snow of the step, never letting Hagrid leave his sight. Ready to bolt.

Hagrid waited longer, patient or not. His curiousity ...

Making a decision, the creature leapt over the slight height of Hagrid's stoop in a solid move born of grace. Claws dug into the wood naturally for balance, a sound only heard by the lessing of the wind.

Upon reaffirming that Hagrid was going to stay right where he was, thank you very much, the fur slouched through the doorway, back low as a pack-mule and practically crawling to the warmth of the fire.

And Hagrid continued to wait outside. The night was far too black to chase the thing down if he spooked it by bringing the logs (trees) into the cabin, or by dropping them before the door. Even if the night _did_ sting at his throat each time he breathed.

Eventually he would make his way inside. But by then the sky would already be bleeding into morning. And his legs would be so numb and so cold for keeping the same post by his pile of wood that he would spend most of the day inside his cabin, missing out on breakfast and much of lunch.


	2. Chapter 2

_There was nothing human in it_—_it was just  
part of the elements,  
cosmic  
in its inevitable rounds_

CHILL CORE, Dana Levin

* * *

Sirius lowered his thick black head to the thawing earth, sniffing across it in a sweeping motion that could more be called a breath than scouting of air. It had been nearly a week since he'd gone up this path, and there were many new trails already over the old scents he'd last known.

A crackling sound of _something_ made Sirius freeze, his left ear twitching as his whole body shivered in a wave of excitement, his fur bristling in preparation. His tail involuntarily gave a slight swish to the side. The movement was obvious evidence that he had _heard_ and _knew_ of the other presence.

Sirius lowered his head to the side with a rumbling growl, moving his body in careful strokes like rippling water, nearly falling into the shadows of the night. Black on black.

His nose faithfully informed him of sweat on fur that was not his own. Echoes of excitement rode his mind and he immediately traced the other presence to the top of a large face of rock nearly at his side. The granite rose several feet in the air to form a ledge above him.

A cool breeze blew against him, downwind, carrying his scent.

He heard a shuffle over the rock and crouched low to the ground, still growling. His ears flicked back and forth, readying himself. The sound and smells didn't come from a rat, but there was more for him to be on the lookout for than traitors.

The smell was nearing the edge of the ledge, thick and heavy with sweat and _blood_.

Sirius snorted the dirt from his nostrils with a harsh breath of air, breathing the fresh blood in as though he could taste it. His tongue instinctively swept from the cave of his gums over the sharp lines of his teeth, _ready_.

The face that finally looked over the ledge brought little recognition from his mind. His years at Azkaban had nearly erased all memory of hunting and playing with his friends, even the scents of wildlife they had encountered while doing so.

The new scent was not a creature he had encountered after his escape, and it took several deep sniffs to bring to mind a shape and a name to give the form.

_Fox._

Who only walked to the very edge of the ledge, tilting his head at the way Sirius still lay hunched against the earth. The dead bird firmly grasped between his teeth dripped blood over the rock and even down onto the earth before the dog.

Sirius moved his head to follow the quick movement of the blood, then sharply lifted again to resume staring. His growls lessened. He could easily be a foot taller and fifty pounds heavier than the fox. If there was a fight, it would go in his favor.

The fox lowered his head in a smooth motion, the dead body of the bird brushing against the ledge and letting loose some sticky feathers. Many of these blew down in a sharp breeze to get caught in Sirius' fur. He shook his head rapidly to dislodge the feathers and blood from his eyes and nose.

He had kicked up a lot of dirt in his frenzy, settling down when his face was mostly clear. A quick glance above him proved that the ledge was again empty.

But beside him was now the pheasant, only partly chewed and not a few hours dead.

Sirius stared in a tight stance, his will holding out for another minute before his head snapped quickly to the bird, clamping it with his jaws in an impossible grip. His tongue licked against the feathers and blood, unimaginable delight from the taste filling him with warmth even as his senses again sought out the fox.

He was _so_ hungry.

(When he next saw Harry and his friends, Hermoine made brief mention of Hagrid being distraunt over the loss of his pet fox; apparently captured and lost during the winter break. Sirius didn't speak then, too busy consuming the food they had snuck him.)

He was a pretty bad hunter.

* * *

Naruto was sleeping nestled deeply in the warmth of finely stiched blankets and sheets, nearly snoring in satisfaction. He was able to manage a way inside the castle, and was currently enjoying all the comforts he had spent the last months without.

He still wore his coat of fur, the skin instantly calming him the moment he was allowed again his baser instincts and sensations. The feel of firm ground against his paws, wind stirring his fur..

Outside, he could hear laughter. Bright colors lined the edges of his vision, dare he open his eyes, and the scent given off from his nest of warm cotton was like breathing fire. A heat so throughally enhanced from the sun that the blankets purred even when he did not.

Back at the mountain he had been forbidden from using this form. The old man had disapproved of Naruto showing any kind of knowledge from his father.

That journey ..

They were long years that he spent climbing over those mountains hidden now behind the castle, following the faint call of some instinct to head west. And all the time spent beforehand! Hiding in the backs of alleys or posing as some wandering traveler..

China was _so_ far away now.

* * *

The next time Sirius saw his fox - he found the scent easily distinguishable for some reason - he gave the golden furred creature a long lick across it's cheek and barked friendily. His tail even gave a little wag. (With the onslaught of winter leaving, even his sorry hunting skills caught some game.)

The fox leapt away and ran off to the Hogwarts castle which, nearing it, Sirius instantly recognized nearly a hundred trails weaving about it. All from the fox.

* * *

McGonagall meet Naruto once, in the draftiness of a very empty corridor during a quiet Saturday afternoon before he had gone missing again.

After a very long and intense stare-off, Naruto promptly flipped onto his back and showed off his very fluffy and white belly. He even faintly wagged his tail and let out the tiniest echoes of a pitiful whine.

She never had a chance.

Carefully she lowered herself onto the carpeted cement, her age still finding ways of revealing itself, beside the bundle of fur. Not having anywhere to be, she proceeded to give him a very throughall petting, complete with scratches behind the ears.

The thick sound of the fox's joy stayed with her hours later, long after she stopped by Hagrid's hut to tell him that his pet was wandering the halls of Hogwarts. It left her with a warm desire that was only fulfilled when she spent the rest of the day napping over a nice spot of sun in her animagus form.


	3. Chapter 3

_so fine his head in the sky with the darkening clouds, ripping the sky  
like the sky was paper, his head- _

_in the dripping bracken, morning mist bathing his face. _

_Watching how her heels are modest,  
how they stick a little  
each time she lifts them from the sopping grass, how she does not know  
she is animal- _

_as he is, sniffing- _

WITNESS, Dana Levin

* * *

Narcissa had been upstairs in her son's room, evaluating it with a critcal eye for Draco's return home, when she heard the house-elf's scream. It was so abrupt and shrill that she had her hands half-way to her ears before changing direction to race downstairs, wand in hand.

The explosions were obviously coming from the kitchen, and the racket easily sounded as if the whole Order had come to attack the Malfoy mansion at once.

Her robes billowing behind her like a wave, she kicked in the kitchen door and - like a temptest - flung her arm forward, wand sparking before she even issued the command. Ready for _WAR_.

* * *

It was rather small, compact in an almost featureless way, and he wondered just what the animal was doing running about through this kind of weather. Most creatures bedded down when the blizzards started in, and this kind of cold was no thing to trifle with.

Wherever it had started from, the thing seemed to have been moving for a long time through the great snow drifts lining the castle and the mountains beyond. Which was .. really rather odd, as the storm had only recently started moving in during mid-afternoon this morning.

Hagrid reached over and scratched lightly between what he could make out of the ears - the fox appeared to have tried taking a bath of some sort in the mud of the riverbed because there really was a large clump of seaweed stuck to the side of it's face and part of the fur of it's neck.

Funny that.

The fox started growling lowly at the touch, the murmur rumbling up and down it's body and through the dried on crustations. But Hagrid wasn't bitten; so the fox must not have minded. Hagrid grinned in delight and worked at scratching off enough crud to see the color of the original fur.

"Now, wha'll I call yeh, yeh little t'ing?" The fox snarled a corner of it's lip up, eyes still tightly closed as it dozed (and thawed) in the impressive warmth of the cabin (and the hard scratches of Hagrid's hand).

"I know! 'ow 'bout "Reynard", eh? After those old stories- Ah!"

Hagrid jerked his hand away quick enough to keep most of his skin attached, but the bite was already given and blood started seeping through the cuts. He quickly wrapped his hand with a piece of cloth, tying the knot tightly under his wrist.

"Well then .. Reynard it isn't, I suppose." He chuckled and went to a corner of the cabin, lifting his large kettle off the floor, and carrying it heavily to the fireplace. Having been watching the half-giant, the fox reclosed his slightly open eye and fell easily back into a deep sleep.

Hagrid hooked the cauldren onto a large piece of metal curving out from the top of the open hearth. Grabbing his umbrella off the wooden table, he glanced instinctively at the sole window in the room, before directing it at the swinging giant pot.

It filled immediately with water and started quickly heating up.

* * *

Voldermort _knew_ that Wormtail was alive.

After the Dark Lord's banishment, Pettigrew hoped for the possiblity that he would go unnoticed, being of such small size and, in the years of his schooling, easily missed. But it was not so.

By now, the story of how he escaped the young Weasley - how the treacherous animagus had _really_ been the source of the Potters death, and had hidden with this wizarding family for so many years - and was on the loose, was missing..

If Dumbledore had knowledge of these events (the boy's friends were quick to relay the story to anyone they hoped would listen), then Voldermort shared the information.

And Wormtail _knew_ this.

Voldermort had really hoped the rat animagus was less of a coward. It would certainly made things quite .. troublesome if he had eradicate Pettigrew before he could be of any use to the Dark Lord.

However, Peter _had_ been on his way, moving as quickly as possible to scout out what he truly believed to be the safest place for him - the heart of the viper's nest. But Voldermort didn't know this.

The last anyone had seen the rat animagus had been in few months before Summer Vacation, when he had unwillingly exposed himself to a select few.

Since then, nearly half of a year had passed, and Voldermort had several plans to attend to.

Was Pettigrew still alive..? If so, he had better come up with a damn good reason for the delay, or he wouldn't be much longer when he returned to Voldermort.

* * *

Neville sneezed repeatedly as he woke to the alarm of the morning, the noise a shrill scream that buried in his bones. He dug his head deeper into the pillows, fisting the fluff as close to his ears as possible and shoving his nose so far against the fabric that he could feel it though the back of his neck.

But he immediately had to dive for air as rapid sneezes tore through him, one after another after another. Sharp like open wounds.

And only when he had gotten a moment to breathe (inhaling as if it were new to him) and Ron had finished putting on his pants and stopped staring at the boy, did he notice all the hairs lining the sheets of his bedding.

Thick, heavy golden hairs that stood out the sharper against vivid red sheets.


	4. Chapter 4

_Claws biting in  
as it cocks its head at you, _

MAGPIE, Dana Levin

* * *

Naruto scratched at the human flesh of his arm, the tingling sensations like no itch he had ever felt before. It burned beneath his skin, asking and promising in a language he didn't remember speaking. His nails burrowed faster, deeper, as he crouched in the lair a fallen tree made over the earth.

The sting of a feeling he had no name for moved up and down the length of his arm, exciting his elbow as it passed by, growing only the stronger for his neglect of it. It vibrated and burned with a fierce passion.

He could feel the heat in the wood even before he touched it, reaching out for the bark without knowing why.

The light was building, unseen but felt like the burning of underbrush blazing beneath one's feet. The pressure was growing, forcing itself against it's containers. Naruto stretched towards the heat, curious about this new force, this new feeling.

He could feel the warmth moving beneath his lips and throat, becoming a thing that he breathed in whenever he breathed out. It trailed beneath him, part of him. Hungering inside of him like a great disease.

Naruto reached out, his fingertips grazing the corse edges of bark and tree, but he did not jump when a true spark burst from the leaves and limbs.

* * *

His elbow was at her eye level, and should have been intimidating.

"But Hagrid .. why name him Ryukyu?" She played with the cookies Hagrid had served, using one to discreetly clean the underside of her nails. The coating was edged with something sharper even than their table.

He was sheepish, and hid most of his answer in his mug of tea. "'e didn' like "Reynard-"

("Who would?" Ron scoffed quietly - and was shushed.)

"'n' I had heard 'bout all these Japanese stories where foxes can change shape and, do magic and all kinds of things!" He paused at the looks on the trio's faces.

"And .. well. I just thought it'd be nice if he .. was like that." Hagrid turned to look through the sole window of his shack out across the grounds, as covered with frost as it was. The panes of grass must have been crunching loudly under the fox's feet by the way it was dancing.

Harry took his glasses off to clean them, holding for time as he hunched out of view.

Hermoine put her (barrel of) tea down. "Hagrid," she started disapprovingly (and Ron tuned out immediately) "first of all - 'Ryukyu' is just a mountain chain in Japan, there's nothing special about it to name an animal for.

And, secondly, there is really nothing special about him. He's about as ordinary as they are going to come."

* * *

Naruto didn't spend much time near the lake. Not after literally being picked up and thrown across the sandy shore of water when he snuck too close to investigate a strange scent that lingered heavily thereof.

For weeks after, he still had nightmares about those large tentacles _leaping_ up from under the black ink of water and _snapping_ towards him with unimaginable speed. Something that large!

Even shallow babbling brooks gave him hesitation now.

* * *

Molly nearly had a heart attack when her son stepped off the train. And, having Fang almost knock her to the ground in his enthusiasm didn't help the least. Ron was waving his arm agressively from side to side, nearly pulling his arm out in the effort.

It was the break after Ron's pet had been discovered to be in truth, an animagus. And Hagrid, feeling very sorry for Ron's lack of a constant companion, had lent the Weasley his favorite boar-hound. He reasoned that he had plenty of other animals to occupy him, and Ron was hard-pressed to say no.

* * *

And Naruto walked behind the crowd holding a stack of books he didn't know the names of, ducking his head and avoiding eye contact.

He was wearing a stolen uniform and he didn't know what the symbols meant but he was walking beside someone and behind somebody and it gave him a strange feeling.

* * *

There was a shallow valley up in the mountains behind Hogwarts, one of many actually, which may have once had a path winding down through it, but was now littered most impressively with fallen boulders. Highly impassable.

Some of the rocks, being less than pebble-sized, were easy to trip over and created very unsteady footing. Others, having the size of great beasts and large homes, were far more impressive.

It was from atop one of the monumental slabs of stone that Naruto caught an odd scent. It was distinctively animal, even an animal he recognized easily and found great fun in hunting with the not-dog he often played with. They .. almost smelled similar..?

The strangeness of it was an .. underlying taste that rode at the back of his throat when he smelled it, almost not there. Sniffling lightly he was reminded of sweaty humans, but such a thing was impossible.

He was the last of his kind. All the world was ..

Naruto found that things were far better off in most cities without his abnormalities.

Crouching low to the ground, he stalked the prey from high above, leaping from ledge to crevice in single bounds, an agility born of blood and not use.

He watched the not-rat scurry over the quickly-freezing ground, and felt the wind blowing against him, carrying the creature's scent all the stronger. He was light as he jumped to a closer perch, and the small not-rat glanced quickly at a few pebbles falling down from where Naruto no longer was.

The not-rat scrambled over the ground, nearly hidden by the impossible boulders, many of the smallest being easily his size. Sharp blazes of cold stung at Naruto's back, the snow already falling over the ground, and he knew that the storm he had been out-running had found him again.

There were several caves and small holes of rock in the mountain, and Naruto watched the not-rat move quickly into one such empty space. And even though the day was bright, the sun wouldn't penetrate more than a foot into the narrow chamber..

He hunched himself lower to the ground, letting his body be swayed by the wind, before he _leapt_, a good ten feet from the small slap of rock protecting the not-rat's cave.

His paws landed lightly enough, but he was inside before that could matter, his body being _just_ small enough for the cave to be completely comfortable to him. Had he been a foot taller or much heavier, he would have found the space rather cramped.

He closed in on the not-rat, cornering it in a dark space of the cave that he could easily see through.

It was only now, as his golden furred body blocked out the sun from the opening of the cave, that the not-rat saw his predator.


	5. Chapter 5

_18.  
A sense of ice sharpens the long corridors.  
I want to whisper to the apple, to the man-  
do you see the wild fox in the frozen Dutch field- _

_19._  
_a seperate animal, scent of sex in his hide,_

_20._  
_looking out of his world into yours?_

THE EXHIBIT, Holaday Mason

* * *

And he was following silently behind Sirius' darkly furred form, nose to the ground as he smelled with a ferocity born of curiosty more than actual hunger.

He had, afterall, no real qaulms about stealing his food and drove the house-elves mad on more than one occasion darting - hairs flying off his coat and into the dishes laying nearby - though the kitchens in such a hurried rush that one could nearly hear his laughter.

Sirius' scent was strange to him. What was that lingering taste resting on the back of his tongue? Part animal and part .. _human_. As impossible as that was.

He was dwarfed by Sirius' bulk, almost half the size. So when the large dog stopped before an obvious food-trail, glancing back at his - partner? playmate? - in quiet query, Naruto only stood still, letting the dog take the lead. Plunging his great black form into the brush with mad abandon.

Naruto already ate his own dinner long before catching Sirius afterall. This was just fun.

* * *

Ron rubbed his ankles before stumbling to his feet. "I think he broke something", he swore, nearly dropping his trunk on Hermione as he gathered his belongings together.

Hermione scoffed and ducked around Ron to the (safer) other side of the train car. "Well, Fang's a big dog. What did you expect would happen when you let him lay on you like that?" She pulled her trunk down, disturbing Crookshanks rest. (Who then jumped, like Fang, onto the now empty seat, laying beside him and beginning to heavily purr at his thick furr.)

Harry set his trunk down on the rumbling floor of the car, and petted Fang before opening he sliding door. He stepped out -

- And ran face-first into Draco.

Most literally.

* * *

Narcissa had been upstairs in her son's room, evaluating it with a critcal eye for Draco's return home, when she heard the house-elf's scream. It was so abrupt and shrill that she had her hands half-way to her ears before changing directions to race downstairs, wand in hand.

The explosions were obviously coming from the kitchen, and the racket easily sounded as if the whole Order had come to attack the Malfoy mansion at once.

Her robes billowing behind her like a wave, she kicked in the kitchen door and - like a temptest - flung her arm forward, wand sparking before she even issued the command. Ready for _WAR._

But there was only a small blonde boy standing in middle the kitchen, naked from head to toe with an apple still tightly in mouth as he danced around the house-elf's attacks. Dodging as if he was born to move ..

She paused, momentairly stunned, and glanced about her quickly for the rest of the Order members. Expecting to see them lingering in the shadows, long dark cloaks sheilding them like a premontion. But there were none. She was nearly alone.

Infused with rage, she turned on the boy, tightening her grip around her wand with an audible clenching sound. Maybe she screamed at him. She didn't bother remembering in the time after. The spells burst forth one after the other, words mingling in the passing as she ran after him, walls cracking and cupboards shattering as she (and the elf) chased him out of the house.

He leapt from their back porch in one solid bound, landing across the perfect green lawn on all fours. Still running, the grass under his hands and feet ripped apart as he _changed._

Frozen in fear, Narcissa could only clutch her wand to her heart as it began to beat unnaturally fast. She stumbled a step backwards to rest her weight against the screen door.

For, on the lawn, still running impossibly fast, she could only just make out what was the last traces of pink human flesh and the beginnings of a four-legged, thickly furred _tailed animal._

Glancing up at the still brightly sunny day, she shivered and slid down the door-frame. Her mind, hectic, could only draw one conclusion. That _Werewolves_ had learned to change, _without the moon._

And Dumbledore had recruited them!

It was only later, when Draco had knocked on the door to the Malfoy mansion and nearly had his head jinxed off - many long hours after she had bolted and shuttered every window - that she suddenly noticed a strange wetness between her legs.

Apparently, sometime during the rush and excitement of the day, she had peed her pants.

It was very discomforting.

* * *

Sirius spun in circles, working his nose like a tool. He dug his paws through some dirt in the food-trail he was _trying_ to follow, not even noticing how he covered the fox with the spray.

Sirius had gotten used to the fox trailing after him on his hunt, usually showing up unexpected and at all hours of the day and night. The fox, afterall, did seem to have the better nose, and would sometimes take the lead in their forages if there was a special thing he wanted that Sirius missed.

But the fox was backing up slowly now, pausing now and again to sniff the air. His tongue lolled in and out as if to confirm something.

Sirius saw this, and mimiced it.

All of a sudden, he could taste something in the air. It was . . _fur?_

Sirius banked in a direction and leapt forward a few bounds, smelling sharply. Fur.. he could smell it on the wolf .. he could almost taste the thick tangy taste of _werewolf_ sweat.

Lupin! It must be! The years may have been muddling his brain and his memories, but he'd recongize that lacing scent even if he'd gone blind. (_He'd recognize James' scent anywhere too, but he'd never be given the chance._)

He barked so loud that the fox jumped back in surpise, before dashing off into the brush after the new trail.

* * *

Remus was hugging Harry back in a one-armed sort of embrace, reaching out. It was tenative touch, but there were smiles behind the lines of his face. _I knew you once.. I remember what you were like. Even so young as to gurgle your words when you talked. Do you? Do you remember me then? Them?_

Harry, releasing his hold, looked up at Lupin and voiced a thought that which had been easying it's way through the boy's mind in a slythering fashion. He had all summer to ignore it but, the worry remained.

"Where is Sirius?" For the Weasley's house was that much colder without him. The _world_ was that much colder without him, and Harry didn't like the doubt that swept under his tongue.

Lupin covered his mouth with a hand, scratching at his chin. "On his way", were the words, and he watched Harry's face, searching for something the boy couldn't name.


	6. Chapter 6

_In the moment between  
the old heart and the new  
two angels gather at the empty chest._

IN THE SURGICAL THEATRE, Dana Levin

* * *

_The year is 1047, and the heavens are a frozen hell._

_Naruto is sleeping beside his papa, what wetness that has been left in his fur is perishing under the intense hold of this embrace. His father is curled around him, closer than the air can get to the body, and nuzzling him into awareness. _

_He has just been born and knows nothing but this. The birthing fluid still sticks to the child's fur, and he shivers in an attempt to dislodge it. Distantly a voice gurgles, but it doesn't reach his awareness._

_The days are dark with frost, but all Naruto can see is the shadow of his father's embrace, nestled in the safety of his body. They are high in the mountains, hidden in a cold cave. The air seeps through, with whistling howls, and the child shivers again in fear of the cold._

_He does not yet understand the words, but his father is speaking to him. His voice calls out through the haze of his young whimpering. Kitsu-ne. Kitsu-ne. _

Come and sleep. Come and sleep.

_Ki-tsune.._

Always come.

* * *

_Over fifty years have passed, and he does not understand why his body won't change. He is the_ Maelstorm_ in human flesh, and has lived among those villages long enough to have made it his name. He does not remember what he was born to, not anymore.._

_But the humans all seem to share a certain amount of kindness and compassion with each other. They are easy on their young, and vocal in their love. That kind of warmth is infectious and it spreads through him, making him want to be a part of such a thing. Wishing he had a place among them. _

_But they fall apart too easily. By this time he has lived on the outskirts of human villages enough to see the gradual decay they all fall victim to. Their flesh is weak, and Naruto has killed by accident. _

_He is not welcome in their homes, nor on their streets. They throw stones at him and cry the curses that make him hurt until his ears bleed. He sleeps in the underbrush in the form that gives him the most movement to flee when they find him. _

_Sometimes, they still do._

* * *

The weather is growing warm like waiting love, and the fox has gotten used to Hagrid enough to not mind the constant presence.

Through a persistance of sheer will and constant care, Hagrid has broken the defenses the Wild builds in all it's inhabitants enough to be able to sit near the fox and share the same space. They are barely visible from the mounds of hides and skins that cover the giant's bed.

But it is a happy place to be, and Hagrid lounges back with a groan that sounds more from protesting wood than relaxing bones.

The fox is curled up inside Hagrid's thick fur cloak, with only his nose poking out to the cool draft of the room (air which seemed to seep from between the cracks in the wood). The light of the fire doesn't reach far to the shadows of the walls.

Hagrid scratches the area between the pup's eyes in a lazy fashion, who only watches him in what the man can easily identify as intelligence.

* * *

_It has taken him this long but, finally, he finds his father's body. Naruto finds the last battlefield that the great monstrosity which gave seed to him vanished from._

_He is too old to remember his father clearly, but he will always remember what he sees now. _

_The landscape is still charred and barren, even after all this time. The rocks have been pitted into dust and nothing will grow. It is an impressive sight. A testiment to that great strength which qualled mountains to their feet. But Naruto feels no pride. _

_The body his father wore has fallen apart, bones fading to dust, muscle and meat being eatten away by the vermin of the underbrush. _

_All that is left of this proud beast is the skin he once wore, untouched except by dust. _

_He picks up his father's fur and wraps it about the fleshy human form he is still wearing. There is a smell yet lingering in it, and he buries his nose in deep. Naruto clings to what is left of his father, and curls this around him. Here, in the middle of a wasteland, he sleeps. _

* * *

Their voices wake him from sleep.

Naruto has familarized himself with the underside of Hagrid's bed, and the topside of it, and the warm space in front of the fire where he likes to curl up. He has not left the hut yet.

But now the door is slammed open with a chorus of bodies and words. They are not full-grown humans that flood into the small room, but Naruto is frightened enough to bolt.

He dashes between the legs, being tripped over, and is outside before the door can even be closed.

He runs from the humans, from their loud shouting voices and piercing scents, and doesn't even notice until far later the taunting smell of wolf that lingered in the legs he brushed against. This odor clings to his fur despite the distance, and he runs the harder.

In the hut, Hagrid asks, ".. Animagus?"


	7. Chapter 7

_the memory  
of being human  
locked in the brain's chill core-  
that being of grief and terror  
I will help you assemble here._

CHILL CORE, Dana Levin

* * *

His cries are so soft, little mewls as his father licks him dry. Naruto's mother was human, he knows this instinctively and can already feel this side of his blood rising up from beneath his still-wet fur. His father bites him, and the liquid flows out heavy and dark.

It is his mother's blood.

He watches this drain away from him as his father's side, heavy and harsh, quickly replaces it. He will always be with him.

But he will never be fully rid of his mother's humanity.

* * *

The boy clawed at the edges of his home, knowing the boundaries, knowing the invisible limitations. The Chieftain grew old watching the young child - the young child who _never aged_ - stalking perimeters around their village.

Was it wrong to capture something so? To cage it in obscurity, in magic? To hide it away from all the world, and hope to change it?

It could be madness; how was he supposed to ever change a demon? They were an oddity.. a death unto themselves.

The Chieftain of the village grew old and fat, and yet older still, until all his bones fell to rot and his skin barely hung on. He could smell his own death lingering in the air.

And yet the boy - Naruto - still did not age.

* * *

_Naruto was standing at the head of the hall, last in line and unexplainably giddy. _

_This was a fool's plan, this pretending to be something he was not._

_All the other first years were seated and McGrongall was staring at him and running a long nail over her list of names. She hummed the words so softly to herself that it could barely be heard across the clatter rising from the student body._

_Finally, she reached the end and looked up at him for a long moment._

_A glance to Dumbledore .. revealed him to be deeply engrossed in his pie and not paying any attention. So she asked him his name and told him to sit on the stool and handed him the hat with cautious hands._

_He laughed before he sat down, and laughed again when the fabric began to speak._

* * *

Umbridge's lips curled up in a slow expression of satisfaction. Her mouth lifting at the corners, puckering in pudge and folding over themselves.

She sniffed and stood taller in what there was of her stature. "I daresay there have been some .. _ah_, delights in your staffing choices, have there not, Dumbledore?"

His fingers laced together, he rested his elbows on the desk and leaned back. Dolores walked swifty back and forth through the space there was to be had in the HeadMaster's office, her heels clicking lightly in quick succession.

".. And of all things, a _werewolf?_" She sniffed again, clearing her throat against her fist as the smile grew.

He nodded, slowly. The words moving through him, and she did not taste what he laced them with. "I thought it wise. Sirius on the run, you know.. If anyone might know where to find Black, Lupin would have offered great insight."

Her lips, the smile held. "Birds of a feather, my dear Dumbledore. _Ah_, birds of a feather.."

* * *

Fang thumped his tail against the floorboards as Ron struggled to position his trunk. Beats - _thunk thunk thunk _- heavy headed as the bass to a drummer's cord, over the sliding of wood on wood.

The books in the trunk hit the cauldron wedged there with a muffled sort of echoing ring that stayed mostly contained within. Ron grunted, and stood back, pleased, at the site.

Ah, but the dent steadily growing on his floor was just a _tad_ more to the right, and a little bit further back.

He leaned down again, and adjusted the weighted trunk, madly grinning.

* * *

Nagini was often the only company he had, as many of his Death Eaters couldn't afford to disappear for days on end without suspicions arising. Lucius was his best bet so far, having the obvious resources and social status to supply the Dark Lord with what he needed and not be questioned in the process of.

But Lucius had a life, and a family, and many eyes watching him. So he could not do what Voldermort needed him to do.

What Voldermort needed though, was someone with no life. Who no one would neither know or care if they were missing for days, weeks, months. What he required was Wormtail, the little rat.

With Lucius planning, and his resources searching as best they could; the only thing he could do was wait.

After the loss of the Junior Crouch, all he could do was wait. As tired as he was of it.

* * *

Hagrid lifted the flap of furs covering his bed, _again_, and knelt bodily down there. .. _No_.

Where would he have gone?

He unearthed his pot, his cauldron from the simmering fire just in case but, _no_. Not there either. Not behind the wood-stack, not under it either. Not roaming through Hogwart's corridors, stopping teachers to have a petting. Not slinking on the outskirts of the grounds, not stealing food from Hogsmead.

Where was he then?

Hagrid drew himself up with a great, throat searing sigh. He had given away Fang, he had lost Norbert, and now the fox..

Pulling down a tangled mess of ropes and steel from one of the hooks swinging in his hut, he struck out for the forest. The trap resting over his shoulder.


	8. Chapter 8

_Can you crawl out of asking_

_the origin of sorrow, now, through the grass,  
in the animal moment,_

HIVE, Dana Levin

* * *

His face was distinctively angular, lines without sharp edges that managed to come together in such a fashion to make Ron think that the boy was cunning - _devious_, planning something, and definitely cunning.

The boy had wild, thickly tossed hair that stuck up a little in the back and on the sides. As if he had been sleeping..?

There was an old yellow coat worn over that small frame. Even smaller than Harry, which was saying something. The coat was worn without being frayed, such an ugly color that all he could think of was dried mud. The boy's eyes stayed on Ron, watching..

Ron shivered, and turned his attention to the commotion rebounding through the room. His mother, tall in her convictions - her voice burned against the walls. Those eyes, they didn't feel _human_.

Lupin, fading, falling into himself. He looked short standing over the Weasely head. Sirius drawn up beside him, grinning. Somewhere Ron had lost track of the conversation, and the flames in the hearth grew green behind the two men as the Floo System activated.

As one, they turned to the source of sudden green light, and stepped to either side.

_Those eyes .._

* * *

He came to himself half sprawled out against the grass and dusty, dry-dew of the ground. His foot slipped in mud and Remus nearly fell from his perch of arms, elbows, and knees.

He staggered to his feet, the harsh light of dawn pounding against his head.

A sharp _crack_ rang out. _Behind him-!_

He spun, slowly, dizzy with fatigue, and almost pitched backwards for the effort. As his eyes trailed from the sky to the great hulking bushes tangled on either side in an effort to focus his vision, spinning up down sideways..

There. There in front of him. A boy? A ..?

That was nothing, if not fur he just saw sliding away into a human face. The boy didn't look nearly as ragged as he did, but the simple thought of not being alone in the transformation that night _(he couldn't remember!)_, most especially with a young boy he'd never seen, left a queasy feeling sinking into his stomach.

He lurched forward, part walking, mostly stumbling as he redrew his bearings around him.

_Where you there..?_

* * *

He took off the coat to run.

What a foolish, stupid thing to do. Yet, no one could have said that Naruto was the wisest one out there. Of course, Naruto hadn't really known anyone long enough for them to say that to him, but it was true all the same.

Naruto set down the hulking mass of fur that remained of his father's coat - now a true coat unto itself with sleeves - over what he was sure was the massive, tangled root he had been lingering the day away yesterday. Practicing with fire..

But then the fire burned in his lungs and his legs and he had to _run_. To be _free_ and feel the wind, the air, roaring through his ears, sliding over his back. His paws pounding against the dirt, tossing it up in his mad rush. The delirious joy of movement.

He took the coat off, and set it here. It was here, wasn't it? It had to be!

What a stupid thing. What a foolish, foolish thing to do. Without the coat, his 'human' fingers were still too long and boney, his nails too sharp. His ears stuck out into corners that shouldn't be and his eyes..

.. slitted with red, he stared back at Remus. Blinking slowly.

_Human?_

Should he kill to keep his secret?

* * *

Dumbledore, that was the name. He swept like a broom - stood like an ornament - all billowing fabric and flowing hair. His eyes moved without moving, and light gathered in odd fashions over the sharp color of his irises.

Dumbledore - _why didn't something that old smell of death?_ - smiled without showing his teeth, and stretched out an arm to Naruto. His palm slightly raised, his fingers barely curled. The sleeves of his robe open enough that from such a height Naruto could see straight through them to the elbow.

Naruto stared at the hand, wrinkling his nose.

He glanced up at the _human_, with hard glares and narrowing of the eyes. His teeth curled back in a soundless snarl, his fangs threatening to slip over the cover of his lip.

Dumbledore, the withering human, so old with flesh that should have _reaked_ of decay, eyes that should have been murky and unclear. So old that his beard brushed the tops of his shoes, _but why didn't he smell it?_

* * *

Remus counted the numbers against the knuckles of his hand - the days, the amount, the money.

Three galleons a day, or was it two? Bread, milk, eggs. _He had five days._ His new job was in a library on the opposite end of a small village. He could do without the eggs, but he would need ham. Meat, meat of any kind. _Five days and counting.._

He was in the Muggle world, renting out a small room with walls that only looked clean. _The moon was coming._ He could smell it, riding through his head. The musty sweat of age and poor sealing leaked through the walls and into his veins. It itched at him.

They thought him a scoundrel, possibly a vagrant druggie from the nearby cities. (_Dealing or selling..?_) The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt - saw - their lingering stares. The fear was a thing Lupin could taste. It rode on the bottom of his spoon, into every scrape against his bowl, into his heart.

_Five days until the full moon, and he would howl and howl and howl.._


End file.
